The Past Laid to Rest
by Aromene
Summary: The news of Celebrían’s pregnancy brings much joy to the Valley and leaves Elrond and Glorfindel to ponder what was saved – and lost during the Last Alliance.


**Disclaimer:  I _wish_ I owned them.  Does that count?**

**Summary: The news of Celebrían's pregnancy brings much joy to the Valley; and leaves Elrond and Glorfindel to ponder what was saved – and lost during the Last Alliance.**

**Author's Note:  After Grav proved that university classes are the best time for writing stories, I decided to try it out.  This is what came of a very boring Hindu Religions class.  Where it came from, I don't know.  It started as humour and dissolved into…angst-y ramblings.  Thanks so much to Grav for being a great beta!**

Elrond rolled over and draped one arm across his lovely wife; reveling in the pleasure of holding her close.  The sensation of waking beside another was still new to him, though he had been married now nine years.  

Reality hit him suddenly and without warning and Elrond blinked to find he was cuddling a cold pillow and Celebrían was nowhere in sight.  He sighed in remorse and slowly detached himself from the comfort of the bed.

The sunlight was still pale and only beginning to show over the treetops – she had risen long before dawn then.

Elrond grabbed a robe and resigned himself to tracking his absent wife through the house.  He had not gone far before he encountered another.

_Wonderful,_ he thought as he spotted Glorfindel coming towards him.  _As if my morning wasn't going well enough_.

"Peredhel! Just who I was looking for.  Tell me, have you discovered something missing this morning?"  He was grinning far too broadly for Elrond's liking, and definitely much too mischievously for this hour in the day.

"Where is she Glor?" he sighed in resignation.  Glorfindel's grin got even wider, if such a thing was possible.

_You would think the Valar had endowed him with all the wickedness in Arda before they sent him back, just to be the bane of my existence_.  Elrond was not at all cheered by the sheer depressing nature of that thought.

"I believe I last saw her in the garden, massacring your favourite –" But Elrond disappeared down the hall before he could finish.  "My work here is done," the blonde declared to the empty corridor and continued about his day, which, at that moment involved a speedy trip to the stables and a long morning ride.  The last place he wanted to be right then was in hearing distance of the gardens.

* * *

  


Though Glorfindel's pronouncement had set Elrond all but running for the walled courtyard, he hadn't really believed what the blond warrior had said.  At least until he stumbled out into the open court to see Cel on her knees pulling at his favourite roses.  In fact, Elrond was certain they were _her_ favourite as well…

"Cel, meleth nin, what are you doing?" he cried.  

She spared him a quick glance but kept her attention focused on the murder at hand.

"Cel, please stop!  You're destroying my favourite flowers!"

She stopped, breathing heavily from her frantic activity.  She stared him in the eye and said in an amazingly calm voice:  "I hate them.  Their smell is making me ill.  I cannot walk through the garden with them here."  Another vine left the earth as she punctuated her last sentence.

"Cel!" he cried in horror, but it was too late; the last root came away in her hand and she sighed in relief.

"That's much better," she commented and rising, left the garden.

Elrond stared in shocked dismay at the disaster left in front of him before hurrying after his wife.  He ignored the glances that were sent their way as he took the hallway to the private wing.

The Lord of Rivendell found his lady in the bath when he reached his rooms.  Her dirtied dress was flung on the floor, along with a vial of rose oil, he noted.  Elrond knelt down at the edge of the bathing pool.  "Is there something wrong Celebrían?  I have never seen you like this before.  And those, as I recall, were your favourite roses as well."

She looked at him, and for the first time embarrassment crossed her face and she looked slightly ashamed.  "I – I am sorry Elrond.  I am not entirely certain of what came over me.  Only I could not sleep so I thought to walk in the garden and watch the sunrise.  And suddenly I felt ill and I saw the roses and…I just couldn't stand them.  I am sorry, meleth nin; I know how you loved them."

"'Tis not the roses, Cel.  I am worried about you.  You say you felt ill?  How so?" He slipped into healer mode without realizing he was doing so.

"I am not certain.  It struck me so suddenly and then, once I started to pull the flowers up, it went away.  I feel fine now.  Except for these," and flushing with embarrassment she showed him her hands.  They were covered in scratches from the rose thorns.

"Aye Cel," he took them and kissed them.  "Finish your bath and I will retrieve something from the Healing Halls to stop the sting.  And then I wish to examine you." He rose and left her to sink down into the steaming water, which was piped into the chamber from the hot springs that bubbled up in the nearby hills, with a long suffering sigh.  

* * *

  


"How is she, Elrond?" Glorfindel could not seem to contain the worry in his voice as he confronted his lord.  If Elrond thought it strange that Glorfindel had been pacing outside of the private suite while Elrond examined his wife, he said nothing.

"Ah," Elrond sighed, and then made a dramatic show of stalling, which visibly annoyed Glorfindel to no end.  "I was able to determine what is wrong.  The good news is, it is not serious.  I cannot treat it however, it must run its course."

"Well, what is it?"  Elrond nearly lost his composure and smiled and the anxious look on his seneschal's face.

"A small matter of a little addition to the family."

Glorfindel stared blankly at him, and then slowly, understanding dawned in his eyes; and then he began to smile.  And then he began to laugh.  "Peredhel, you are to be a father!  This is wonderful!"

"That was the general consensus between Celebrían and I.  We have wanted a child, but did not exactly expect one, I suppose.  There is an unbelievably large difference between wanting a child and actually having one.  The next while will certainly be an adventure.  I hope you are up for it, mellon nin."  And Elrond disappeared back into his rooms to attend his wife.

Glorfindel's smile stayed upon his face for another moment, before Elrond's last line sunk in.  And then he abruptly frowned.  What exactly did his lord mean?  He wasn't going to have to play babysitter to a little elfling, was he? 

* * *

  


Rivendell's Lord stood upon the balcony of his study.  Late though it was he could find no sleep.  The Valley slept, though its people had celebrated long into the evening the news of their Lady's pregnancy.  He heard soft footfalls behind him and knew he was no longer alone.

Elrond drew his gaze upwards to the stars; finding the Gil-Estel and tracing the path of his father's ship through the sky.  He tried in vain to remember Eärendil's face.  Too young, much too young – and too far away.

"He would have been proud of you," Glorfindel's soft voice broke over Elrond's shoulder.

The Lord of Imladris was not sure to whom his seneschal was referring.  "Eärendil?" he whispered.

"No," the blonde smiled sadly. "Though I am sure he is.  But I meant Ereinion."

"Ereinion…" Elrond's eyes darkened at the memory that still brought to him so much sadness.  Another loss in a life that had already suffered so much.  "I wish he could have been here to see this.  The number of times he begged me to ask for Celebrían's hand, if only so I'd stop looking at her like a love-sick elfling.  He was always so fond of the children that graced Lindon's halls with their laughter.  If only Erei could have had the chance to hold a grandchild in his arms."

Glorfindel was trying in vain to picture the High King with a newborn infant squalling in his arms.  The picture was just too humorous, and he laughed aloud.  His lord sent him a sharp glance, deeming laughter highly inappropriate for such a sad and serious moment.  "I am sorry my lord; only I was attempting to form the vision of our King with your child in his arms, and I'm afraid I was failing miserably.  I did not often get the opportunity to observe him interacting with any elves below training age, so forgive me if it is so hard for me to imagine such a thing.  Though I have heard the tales well enough of how he longed for children of his own."  

The Balrog Slayer realized a split-second later that he had perhaps not said the best thing when he saw the hurt cross Elrond's face.  "Aye, look what I have done now.  I should perhaps cease to talk, for I seem only to cause you anguish with my words.  I was wrong; he had two wonderful sons of his own, and he loved them more than anything.  And they both grew to make him the proudest father in Lindon."

"'Tis alright Glorfindel.  I know of what you meant; even if I do not like to be reminded of the fact.  He should have had sons of his body, and not just fosterlings he stumbled upon in the forest, no matter whose sons they were.  He was a wonderful father, and always managed to find the time for us, even with his duties.  But he deserved a loving wife, and sons and daughters to surround him.  He deserved a proper heir."  The bitterness of loss and regret was laced through the Lord's voice, and Glorfindel winced at the sound. 

"No, Elrond.  Do not ever think such a thing!  You and Elros were good sons to him.  In everything you did your best, and it was usually perfect.  And though you have seemingly convinced yourself otherwise, you made the right choice.  If you had been left a kingdom at the height of its power, as Lindon was during the Second Age, then you would have ruled it well.  But the kingdom failed even as her king fell, and there was no rule left for you to take up.  Except the governance of Imladris; and this you did, and did well.  What would have happened had you not founded this Haven, Elrond?  Here are the last traces of beauty and peace that still linger beyond the mountains.  You have ruled here well, and for that we are all thankful.  There is nothing more of you the people could ask; no more that any of us expect.  When Gil-galad died, most of our people sailed: there was nothing left for you to rule.  Please, Elrond, you must understand.  You have done no wrong.  Nothing that can condemn you as you so think you should be condemned."  

Glorfindel's voice rose as he tried to bring his point home, and at the last it seemed as if the words would penetrate the guilt that held Elrond in sway.  The raven haired Lord looked his seneschal in the eye, and he sighed in final resignation.  

"Perhaps you are right Glorfindel, though I have not been able to see it.  What you say, though, I know is truth.  It is just so hard to let it go, for I have born the pain so long.  It seems my last tie to him, and I cannot bear to loose that."

"You will loose nothing by accepting that you are not guilty of any crime.  Please, let the grief pass; there is a new beginning here, and a chance to leave the past where it belongs.  For Celebrían, for the baby, for yourself.  Let it go."

And Elrond did, staring up at his father's star he let it kindle hope for the future in his heart.  He let go of the grief that still clung to him over his king and father's death and released the guilt that had plagued him that he should have done something more; even though there was nothing he could have done.  He accepted and understood that he had done many good deeds in his life, and that his people thanked him for them, rather than curse him for what he had not done.

The sky was lightening with the coming morn, and Eärendil's star was fading into the sky with it.  Elrond turned to look at Glorfindel and his eyes were bright with light and hope; no longer dimmed by grief and guilt. 

"It is a new day, mellon nin.  Let us make it a good one."  And turning, Elrond left the balcony, leaving his friend to watch the sunrise and smile in joy for a golden future.  A future full of peace, and hope, happiness and light, and lots of little raven haired elflings running about.


End file.
